


I'm in Heaven.

by freecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mentions of hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freecas/pseuds/freecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has nightmares. Cas wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm in Heaven.

_Heaven. I’m in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak._

Dean woke up in a cold sweat, his hand grabbing the gun from under the pillow and pointing at dark shadows. He breathed deeply as his hand pointed to a different corner of the empty room.

It was just a dream, Dean had to remind himself. A cruel never-ending dream that still haunted him at night after all these years.

Dean lowered the gun forcing Alastair’s voice away.

In the settled silence not disturbed by Dean’s breath’s, he could still hear the goddamn music. Dean grabbed the side of his head and scratched it. There was no dangerous voice anymore, but the music was enough.

It took Dean several seconds to realize that it wasn’t in his head. The muffled song was actually coming from the downstairs.

Dean grabbed the gun again, as well as Ruby’s knife and left the room. He walked slowly as the music got louder with his every step.

Dean wasn’t insane, he knew that Alastair was dead. And it didn’t matter that after all these years he still woke up from the voice in his head telling him to do something he didn’t want to. Every time he woke up, he knew that it had been just a dream.

But now, hearing this song… Dean wasn’t so sure anymore.

He carefully glanced into the room, noticing the old gramophone and a record, spinning on it. Dean made a small step further into the room and breathed out, gun lowering in his hand.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted him with a swift glance, “Did I wake you up?”

Dean looked him over, his still sleepy gaze following Cas’ fingers as they turned a page of an old big book lying in front of him. The angel actually looked like he belonged here of all the places, surrounded by pile of books and manuscripts in his worn out trench coat. Dean wanted this sight to forever burn into his memory.

He shrugged, “Nah, I’m just having troubles sleeping.”

As he said that he walked over to the gramophone and took the needle off the record. The music stopped at once when Sinatra suggested they should dance and Dean put the gun on the table. He was aware of Castiel’s eyes following his movements. When he turned around the blue eyes pierced into him, his head tilted slightly.

“Same old,” Dean grinned tiredly as he walked by Cas.

Dean didn’t want to talk about it. Not because he didn’t care, on the contrary, he cared so much that he feared to say too much, to open up too much. Even though he knew that of all the people, Castiel would provide the comfort he needed, still, Dean would rather not show his friend that he craved his comfort more than anything in the world.

Instead, Dean grabbed a bottle of bear and drank it like he was starving. With every swallow Alastair’s voice was getting more quiet, until it disappeared completely. Getting back to sleep would be much better if he was drunk.

“You are disturbed by the memories of your time in Hell.”

Dean didn’t know if his friend was asking or stating, but Dean shrugged anyway, his eyebrows lifting. He wasn’t even a little bit angry that the angel dug into his head again.

Castiel thought for some time and then looked back at Dean, “I could make them disappear, if you want me to.”

Dean considered it. No more screams, no more blood, no more knowing that it took so little for Dean to break. He would forever forget the faces of people he had to torture; the things he did to them; the things Alastair made him do. But mostly – he would never remember the pure joy and satisfaction of being on the other side of the torture, having a chance to do to others everything that was done to him. Over and over again.

Castiel stood up and Dean knew he was walking towards him. As his hand rose in front of Dean’s face, Dean opened his eyes. The angel stopped, his fingers only couple of inches away from Dean’s skin.

Dean took his friend’s hand into his and lowered it, his head shaking a bit. He smiled into the angel’s confused look and tightened his hold over his hand, stroking it slightly.

“Everything that happened to me was just outcome of my choices. So I deserve these memories,” he knew what Cas was about to say, and it didn’t matter if he wanted to comfort Dean or he truly believed it, Dean didn’t need it, “There’s no destiny, Cas. It was all me. The bad _and_ the good. It was me,” he actually smiled as he said that, “And Sam. And _you_.”

Castiel watched him, learning him. He still did it, even after all these years of them being friends, Cas still wanted to know more than there was.

“There has to be a way I could help.”

Of course. No matter what anyone ever said, Cas _was_ their friend. Heaven, hell, angels, demons – they couldn’t understand it. Cas was their friend.

So Dean nodded, his second hand leaving the bottle on the counter and covering Cas’ hand as well, “Actually, there is.”

Dean didn’t kiss him. Even though he wanted it oh so badly. Even though those times he didn’t dream of hell all he could picture was his friend and his goddamn lips. Even though the air between them became hot and troubling.

Dean didn’t kiss him. It was all Castiel.

He stared at Dean (read his mind most certainly) and leaned forward. The touch was nothing Dean’s has ever experienced ever since he was a fifteen-year-old boy. It was chaste, and questioning, and new, and _right_.

Castiel angled away and searched an answer in Dean’s eyes. _Was that what you wanted?_

Dean chuckled. When Cas’ confusion grew stronger, Dean nodded, “Yeah.”

This time Dean kissed Cas.

When he went back to bed that night the angel followed him, his hand held securely in Dean’s. Dean knew that whatever he dreamed of, Cas would be there to hold him when he wakes up.


End file.
